


Work in Progress

by msred



Series: Starting Over [7]
Category: American (US) Actor RPF, Chris Evans (actor) - Fandom, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Cute Kids, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, Meet the Family, POV Female Character, POV Original Character, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-03 21:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21186452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msred/pseuds/msred
Summary: It was inevitable, if our relationship was to continue to grow and progress, that I would meet Chris's family at some point; they were far too important to him for me to not. And it's not really even that I viewed it as a "have to," I really, truly wanted to. If the man that family had produced was any indication, and I believed he was, I had every reason to believe they would all be wonderful people. But that didn't mean I wasn't terrified. It had been roughly 20 years since the last time I'd had to do the whole "meet the family" routine, and a lot had happened in that time.





	Work in Progress

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Maybe Someday We Could Be Friends](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20221453) by [msred](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msred/pseuds/msred). 

> 1\. If you haven't read "Maybe Someday ..." (linked above) you might want to before reading this. This whole series is a non-chronological anthology, and they certainly don't HAVE to be read in order (either of publication or within the chronology of the story), but there are a few things in this one that will make more sense or be more clear if you have read that one first. 
> 
> 2\. Up to this point, all the characters mentioned by name in my stories are either products of my imagination, characters modeled after people in my real life (usually still with a decent dose of imagination thrown in), or people who are public figures by their own choice. This story brings in some real people who have become semi-public figures because of their connection or proximity to public figures. In each case, I either already know these people's names or could probably figure them out with a fairly short Google search. However, it just didn't feel right to me to use the names of those people since they did not choose to become public figures (and especially since most of them are minors). So, there are a lot of adjectives and descriptive common nouns when I COULD have used names, but I chose not to out of respect for the people they are based on. I hope you will be understanding - even forgiving - if/when there are instances that are not as smooth as they would have been with the use of a name. Thanks!!

_ 2 ½ months together (April, Year 2) _

I had never before been quite so thankful that the Friday before my school's spring break was a half day. Chris and I had tossed around several ideas of things we could do together on my week off, but ultimately we’d decided on me going to stay with him in Boston. And thanks to that half day, I could avoid taking a personal day (which was great, since I’d already taken two for the inauguration) and still be with him by Friday evening, rather than losing practically all of Saturday to travel and fatigue. 

Chris had been to visit me a couple times in the two and a half months since I’d looked at him across that couch in D.C. and just  _ known  _ I couldn’t keep letting anxiety stand in the way of something that had the potential to be so good. And, as seemed to be his personal brand, it had been just as good as advertised, sometimes better. I loved that he was so understanding about making the trip to come see me, since my work schedule didn’t really allow for much time away from home for nine months out of the year, and I loved the time we were able to spend together in and around my home, but I was really looking forward to going to him for once. 

I was also incredibly nervous about meeting his family. Two and a half months was a reasonable time to wait before meeting the parents (and in this case the brother, sisters, brother-in-law, niece, nephews, and possibly even countless close friends), but our relationship didn’t seem to follow the normal rules of time, and it seemed simultaneously like we’d been this huge force in each other’s lives virtually forever and also that we’d only just started seeing each other and therefore it was far too soon to be taking such a big step. Either way, though, it had been a given that I would do  _ something  _ with them while I was visiting, and Chris had been very sweet about the planning process, handing me the reins from the start. Dinner at his mom’s house, which she’d apparently offered (requested was probably a more accurate way of putting it) the second he’d told them I was coming up for the week, seemed like a relatively safe option. And honestly, I kind of preferred the idea of meeting everyone at once rather than spreading it out. For one thing, there was that whole ‘ripping off the band-aid’ mentality that said that meeting everyone at the same time would likely be less nerve-wracking in the long run than drawing it out. For another thing, as much as I truly did want to meet his family (even if it terrified me), having one pre-scheduled family event rather than several meant that I got to spend more time with just Chris. Was that selfish? Sure. Did I care? Only a little. We didn’t get to see each other nearly as often as we would like, and I’d learned from experience - because it doesn’t really matter how many times you hear it until you’ve actually lived it - to cherish every single moment and make the most of them. 

In that same vein of ripping off the band-aid, I’d asked Chris if the dinner could be as early in the visit as possible. I’d explained to him that the longer we waited, the more anxiety I would probably build up about the visit. He’d added, so sweetly, so cutely, that it was a good plan, since that way, if I got freaked out because his family was ‘too much,’ we’d still have almost a whole week to recuperate from that, just us. It was touching, the way he spoke as if the only way something could go wrong was if it was on the part of his family, not me. I also, however, assured him that it was almost impossible for them to be  _ too much  _ for me; if anything, I was worried about the opposite. Nonetheless, I couldn’t put into words how much I appreciated his thoughtfulness. And so, all that added up to mean that I’d be spending my second evening in Boston, barely more than 24 hours after arriving, at Mrs. Evans’s house, having dinner with the whole Evans clan.

None of it mattered though, not the nerves or the fear or the anxiety, when I headed for baggage claim at Logan International. All that mattered was Chris, who I hadn’t seen in person in almost a month, and my sheer, over-the-moon excitement to see him, touch him, just  _ be _ with him. I spotted him easily. In his mind, the casual jeans-sneakers-t-shirt-baseball cap get-up, when combined with the beard, were a perfect disguise. But for me, those typical, so-very-Chris traits made him impossible to miss. I was a little surprised, though, to see that he wasn’t alone. Two little boys stood on either side of him, bouncing on their toes and tugging on his arms occasionally, and a little girl waited behind him with her back to them, her hand on his hip at his belt loop. I recognized all three of them immediately, even as I approached at an angle from almost the opposite direction to where Chris and the boys were facing. I'd seen no shortage of pictures of them, and besides, they all had the same eyes,  _ Chris's  _ eyes, as far as I was concerned.

“Is that her?” I heard the older of his nephews ask, still facing away from me, when I was close enough to hear them over the dull rumble of the other conversations around me. 

Chris put a hand on the boy’s head and ruffled his sandy hair. “Nope, that’s not her.”

The younger boy spoke up then, pointing far off, almost to the exit doors. “Is  _ that  _ her?” _ _

Chris laughed. “No buddy, that’s not her either." The boy appeared to deflate. "I know,” Chris closed his hand over his nephew’s shoulder and pulled him close, “I’m impatient to see her too.”

Then his niece made eye contact with me as I approached. The recognition was instantly visible. So they’d seen pictures of me, too. My heart swelled. I put a finger over my mouth and waved at the little girl with my other hand. “Shh.” I winked and she grinned back. When I was right in front of her, she took a small step to the side but kept her hand on Chris’s hip. I set my carry-on down at her feet. 

“Is  _ that  _ her?” I rested my hands on his shoulders from behind and pushed up onto my toes to ask the question right next to his ear.

“Yeah,” I somehow  _ heard _ his smile. “ _ That’s  _ my girl.” He took his hands from where they rested, one on the older boy’s head and the other on the younger boy’s shoulder, and spun on his heels to face me, a grin overtaking his face. His hands reached in my direction momentarily, then he stuffed them into his pockets. “Hey, you.”

“Hi,” I beamed back at him, then looked down to make eye contact with each of the kids, starting with the older boy and ending with the girl, who’d already made herself my newest friend by playing along with my little game, “to all of you.” I threw my hands out to my sides in an  _ I can’t believe what’s happening here  _ gesture. “I wasn’t expecting a whole welcoming party, this is  _ awesome _ !”

“See,” the older boy gloated, looking up at his uncle triumphantly, “I  _ told  _ you she wouldn’t want you to come by yourself. That would’ve been boring.” 

Chris gasped and his jaw dropped just as he turned to glare down at his nephew. “Hey you, what’re you trying to say? Huh?” He bent down and grabbed the boy in a loose headlock, his free hand flying all over, fingertips tickling his ribs, under his arms, even in the crook of his elbow.

“That you’re old and boring and we’re more fun!” The younger boy chimed in loudly, his voice high and a little shrill. He waited until Chris lunged at him then shrieked and jumped like he was going to dart away.

Chris grabbed him around the waist, still holding his other nephew by the collar of his shirt, and practically flung him over his shoulder. “Oh no you didn’t!” he bellowed as the smaller boy pounded harmlessly at his uncle’s back as he hung upside down, his legs kicking wildly in the air in front of Chris’s chest. Chris slid his other hand back around his other captive’s neck and across his small chest to hook it under his arm and resume his tickling there. Both boys squealed, their young, high voices accompanied by their uncle’s lower one as his loud, almost cackling laugh rang through the large, open area.

After a minute or two, I looked down at the young girl who had moved away from her uncle and brothers to stand at my side. “Are they always like this?”

“Yeah,” she answered on a sigh, shaking her head, “boys.”

I looked away for a moment so that she wouldn’t see the laugh I bit back at her seriousness. After another handful of seconds, I looked down at her and shook my own head, then called out to them. “Boys.” I got no response, so I raised my voice a little. “Hey.” When they didn’t even acknowledge me, I grew louder still, employing my full ‘teacher voice.’ “Noisy boys!” All three of them got quiet almost instantly and the older two, who could actually see me, looked at me with wide eyes. Chris lowered the smaller of the two boys off his shoulder slowly, settling him onto his hip, and the older boy stood just in front of him. All three were the very picture of manners as Chris cradled his nephew on his hip with both arms and both boys tucked their hands behind their backs, all of them putting on their most remorseful faces. It was maybe the cutest thing I’d ever seen. “Think we can move this party out to the car? I’d love to get far, far away from airplanes as soon as possible. And maybe find some,” I trailed off and looked from one face to another - each boy, then Chris, then his niece, then back to Chris, “pizza?”

“Pizza!” The polite act was abandoned instantly when both boys yelled and thrust their fists into the air triumphantly.

“Well.” Chris chuckled, “I guess we’re getting pizza.” Without letting go of the boy on his hip, he closed the gap between us then looked around, and, using his nephew’s body to shield us from the potentially watchful eyes around us, pressed his lips to my temple. “Hi baby,” he said quietly, lowly, as he pulled away.

I smiled up at him, happy to accept whatever version of a quiet greeting we could get at the moment. “Hi.”

“How was your flight?”

“It was fine. Too long.” I reached to rest my hand on his lower back, then remembered where we were, and how many people we were surrounded by, and settled it on his nephew’s knee instead. “Or maybe I was just too impatient.” I smiled up at him a little.

“You?” He grinned back at me, “ _ Noooo _ .”

I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips up at him, wanting nothing more than to slap his chest or jab an elbow into his ribs. I held back, though, and before I did anything at all, his niece’s quiet, sweet voice caught both of our attention.

“Umm, this is yours, right?” She pulled my suitcase - the full-sized one, not the carry-on I’d set at her feet earlier - in front of her from behind and brought it to rest between my feet and hers.

“Oh my goodness!” I reached for the handle and pulled the bag to my side. “Yes! Sweetie, thank you so much. How did you know?” I reached a little cautiously for her, and when she didn’t seem to mind, I rested my hand on her shoulder.

“It matches your other one,” she shrugged, “I just figured.”

“Well, you figured right,” I shook my head and chuckled a little under my breath, somewhat taken aback. “Thank you.”

Chris lowered her brother to the floor and knelt in front of her on one knee when the little boy skipped a few steps away, joining his big brother to watch the bags drop onto the carousel from the conveyor belt. “Good job sweetheart! High five!” He held up his hand and she slapped it with her own, which he then closed his fingers around, using it to pull her in for a hug before standing again and pulling the handle of the wheeled bag out of my hand. “Is it just this one?”

I nodded. “That’s it.”

He nodded back, just once. “Alright then.” He clapped his hands together, once, loudly. “Okay you meatballs,” he called out to the boys, “let’s blow this popsicle stand!”

***

I was lost in my own head, amazed by the sense of comfort that rested deep in my chest as I rode with Chris and his niece and nephews through a Boston suburb, pizzas heating my lap through my jeans, Chris's right hand on my knee and his left on the steering wheel as he chatted away with the three kids in the back of his sister's crossover SUV. There was a small part of me that worried it was too soon to feel so safe, so secure, in a situation that felt so akin to 'playing house' with this (incredible) man who hadn't even been in my life for a year. But while that nagged quietly in the back of my mind, the rest of me insisted that I was happy, and that it was  _ okay  _ to be happy and that I should just focus on that for the time being. 

The kids had been talking to their uncle for several minutes and I had, without realizing it, checked out of the conversation. I came back to when Chris squeezed my knee, and when I looked over at him he jerked his head toward the middle and back rows of seats.

“You're really pretty," the younger boy told me from his seat just behind Chris when I turned around.

My eyes widened and my brow wrinkled and my hand flew to my chest. “Oh, thank you sweetheart." I turned to Chris and he refused to take his eyes off the road, very deliberately, it seemed to me, but the side of his mouth lifted into a small smile and a few shallow wrinkles appeared around the corner of his eye. "That’s very sweet of you.”

The little boy’s sister shifted in her booster seat, kicking the back of my seat in the process. “Sorry,” she told me quietly. I twisted around the back of the seat to tell her it was totally fine, but before I could, she asked, “Am I pretty?”

“Hey, of course you are.” Chris answered almost instantly, and when I looked over at him he was glaring into the rearview mirror. I could tell that the next thing he really, really wanted to do was ask her if anyone had said otherwise.

“Yes, you certainly are,” I agreed gently, turning back to face the small girl but bringing my hand to cover Chris’s, my fingers wrapping around his, on my knee, “just like your uncle said. But, you know what else you are? Even better, more  _ important _ , than being pretty?”

She picked at her fingernails, her hands in her lap, and peered up at me through those long, dark, Evans eyelashes. “What?” _ _

“You’re smart.” I waited for a second, giving the words a chance to sink in. “And strong,” I added. She lifted her head a little, coming closer to making head-on eye contact with me. I took it as a sign to go on. “You knew which suitcase was mine, just because you were smart enough to figure out that it went with my carry-on.  _ And,”  _ I carefully shifted the pizzas into the floorboard, just in front of my feet, so that I could turn even more in her direction, leaning between my seat and Chris’s just slightly and bringing both of my hands to the back of mine, _ “ _ you got it off the carousel and brought it to us. I can barely even lift it! I mean, you saw how your uncle brought it out to the car for me.” I hoped she wouldn’t point out that he’d pulled it along behind us on the wheels, or ask me how I got it from my own car into the airport in the first place. I also hoped that pointing out that a man had done the ‘heavy lifting’ for me wouldn’t totally negate my point. “You’re  _ super  _ strong. And strong, and smart, are  _ awesome _ .”

She bit her bottom lip, “I got a 100 plus extra credit on my math test yesterday.” The smile she’d been biting back broke out across her sweet little face.

“Girl! Yes!” I held up a hand to her, palm out, and she smacked it enthusiastically. “That is amazing.”

It took all I had not to jump when Chris’s voice boomed through the car. “Yeah it is! You didn’t tell me that.” He didn’t sound like he was scolding her, but it did sound a tiny bit like an accusation, the words laced with a touch of what sounded suspiciously like jealousy. Did it bother him that she told me before she told him? Maybe. And maybe I should have felt a little bad about that. But really, I just felt kind of proud.

The little girl shrugged, “I didn’t think it was a big deal.” 

“That is definitely a big deal,” I assured her, lifting my eyebrows and nodding as I spoke. “You should be very proud.”

“Listen to her,” Chris agreed, twisting in his own seat as we came to a stop at a red light, “she’s  _ also  _ very smart. And strong. You should  _ both _ be proud of how smart and strong you are.  _ I’m _ wicked proud of you.” He reached for her ponytail, gathered in an elastic band at the nape of her neck and pulled over her shoulder, and tugged, making her grin and roll her eyes. Then he turned back around and brought his hand back to my leg, just a couple inches above my knee, and slid it over the denim until his fingertips were tucked between my legs. He tightened his hand around my thigh and lowered his voice a little, quieter than he’d spoken to the kids. “And I’m wicked proud to be  _ with _ you.”

It would be easy to doubt him, since we had been keeping our relationship very quiet. But it wasn’t about either of us being ashamed; I  _ certainly  _ wasn’t, and I couldn’t help but believe him when he said the same. It was about protection - protecting him from the questions that would inevitably come and that would distract from his actual work; protecting me from prying eyes and general unwanted attention and possibly even bullying; and protecting what we were working to build, the relationship that was still young and new and even a little fragile. That didn’t mean no one knew, though. My kids knew; they’d been there from the start. My closest friends knew. And, of course, his family knew. And by the end of that week, the list would inevitably have grown to include some of his oldest friends.

“Yeah, well,” I matched my voice to his and rested my head against the headrest when I’d settled myself back into the seat with my body facing forward and my head turned toward him, “I’m not exactly hiding you under any rocks, mister.”

***

We’d been at Chris’s house for nearly three hours, and my bags were still stacked in a corner of the dining room. In fact, I’d yet to even  _ see  _ the guest room, or make it beyond where the living room opened into the adjoining dining room and kitchen in one direction, or the bathroom just off the front hall in the other. There had been the pizza of course, then almost two hours of board games around a large leather ottoman we’d pulled from the edge of the room into the middle of the living room floor. After that, the boys had gone running into the backyard, Chris following right behind - chasing them, really - and I’d settled on the couch with his niece and an early chapter book version of  _ Moana  _ after she said she’d had enough of her brothers for the day _ .  _ We’d been reading together for about 15 minutes, alternating the two- to three-page chapters between us, when I finished a chapter and she missed her turn. I looked over at her and she was craning her neck toward me and squinting, examining my necklace. It was a simple one, a ‘mother/daughter’ gift from a former student on my first birthday after my husband died. It was a dull, brushed gold; a small charm on a simple, dainty chain, landing just below the hollow of my collarbone. The charm itself wasn’t that noteworthy at first look - a rectangle, no more than half an inch on the longer sides, hammered into a sort of a wave to resemble a sheet of paper being shaken or a flag waving. Three words were stamped into the metal; even the font was rather plain. But that was all kind of the point: the design  _ wasn’t  _ the point. The message was.

"Can you read it?" I asked her as her eyes narrowed a little more and I could tell she was fighting the urge to lean even closer, or maybe to reach out and pull it toward her.

She shook her head. "It's too small."

My hand lifted almost involuntarily and I brushed my thumb over the charm. "It says  _ Work In Progress _ ."

"What does that mean?" She furrowed her little eyebrows.

"Well,” I drawled the word out, thinking about just how to explain what the necklace meant to me. I wanted to be honest with her, but I also wanted to explain it in a way that would make sense to her young brain. Finally, I settled on, “It means I'm not perfect. I'm not even as good as I hope to be someday. But, I'm working on it, and I'm better than I used to be. And every day I make a little more progress."

She hummed as I reached around my neck to unclasp the chain and pass the necklace to her for a closer look. She studied it for a moment before responding. “That sounds like a good thing. Right?" She looked up at me.

"Yeah,” I nodded then shrugged. “I mean,  _ I _ think so."

"Is …” she drew the word out and tilted her head to one side, lips pursed and eyes squinted and directed up to the ceiling as she thought. She grinned at me when she’d finally decided on the question she wanted to ask. “ _ Uncle Chris  _ a work in progress?"

I grinned, I think I even chuckled a little under my breath, and nodded again. "Yeah, for sure. Although, can I tell you a secret?” I looked down at her conspiratorially and waited as she nodded. I lowered my voice; we were alone in the house, but that’s just what you do for a secret. “I think he's already made a lot more progress than a lot of people. He's pretty great, right?" I winked down at her when I pulled back a bit and she looked up at me, smiling. She got quiet for a second then reached toward me, the necklace dangling from her fingers. 

"Am… am I a work in progress?" she asked me, hesitant, as I clasped the chain back around my neck.

"Definitely,” I assured her, both because I believed it was true and because I believed, after hearing it was true about her uncle, that she wanted it to be true. “Every day you get smarter, and stronger. And you learn new things and make new friends. I think you're actually making progress a lot faster than your uncle or me."

She seemed to accept the answer, because she just scooted a little closer and went back to reading. She leaned into my side as she went on, and by the time she finished her short chapter, her head rested on the outside of my shoulder. She pulled the bookmark from where I’d stuck it toward the back of the book and tucked it between the pages where she’d stopped, then handed the book to me. "I have to go to the bathroom." I just laughed and watched her slide off the couch and skip out of the room. 

She’d been gone just long enough for me to set the book on the end table and reach for the water cup I’d been sipping from since dinner when I heard the front door open and a female voice call out, "Knock knock!"

"Hey sis! Come on in, I'll go get the crazies." Chris’s voice came from almost right behind me, and it startled me. I’d thought he was still outside with the boys. He must have come in the back and entered the living room through the kitchen and dining room. By the time I turned toward his voice, all I could see was his back, retreating back the way I assumed he’d come.

Chris’s older sister made it to where the front hall opened into the spacious living room, and I rose from the couch to meet her. I hoped she couldn’t tell how nervous I was. If she could, she didn’t let on, smiling warmly and talking to me as if it weren’t the first time we were meeting. “Thank you so much for entertaining them. I know baby-sitting probably isn’t how you wanted to spend your evening after travelling all day to get here. I can’t believe he let him con them into picking them up from school.”

I shook my head and waved her off, returning her smile with one that I hoped was just as genuine as hers appeared to be. “No no, I had a great time. And I definitely wouldn’t call it baby-sitting. I enjoyed getting to spend time with them. They’re  _ great _ kids.”

She put out her hand, presumably to shake mine, and looked like she was going to say something else, but her daughter came barrelling at us, stopping at my side. “Did she tell you?” The excitement and expectation in her voice were palpable, and her mother crossed her arms and looked down at her with a mock-stern expression that I felt I already knew all too well.

“That you little monsters crashed her evening with Uncle Chris?”

Even as she was speaking, we heard the commotion of Chris and the boys making their way through the house. The boys ran down the hall at us, the older boy making a beeline for his mother and the younger tripping and tumbling at my feet, protesting even as he did. “We didn’t crash!”

Chris laughed as he pulled up the rear, planting his feet on either side of his nephew's hips. He swooped down over the boy and grabbed him, his hands hooking under his nephew's arms and wrapping around his ribcage to scoop him up into the air before setting him solidly on his feet. “Hmm, looks like  _ you  _ just crashed, little man.”

The girl at my side watched the transaction until her brother was steady on his feet, then turned back to her mother. “Noooo," she drew out the word, impatient, maybe with her mother for joking at her expense, maybe with her brothers for interrupting her moment, maybe both. "Did she tell you how we beat the boys?” Chris sighed beside us and retreated back toward the back of the house, shaking his head in what I believed was fake frustration, put on for the benefit of the kids.

Chris's sister looked down at her daughter with wide, interested eyes. “You beat the boys huh? At what?”

“Everything," she boasted then looked up at me proudly. "Even though we were outnumbered.”

“Mhmmm," I nodded and put on my best, cockiest smirk. "Heads Up. Pictionary.”

"Charades!”

I lifted just one side of my mouth in a crooked, smug grin and looked down at her out of the corner of my eye without turning my head. When she smiled back up at me I held my hand out at my side, palm up, and she smacked it with her own. "Disney. Trivial. Pursuit.”

“They cheated at that last one!” Chris called adamantly from the dining room, where he was packing the kids' things into their backpacks. We all turned to watch him come back to join us, and I couldn't help but laugh, just a little, at the incredibly annoyed look on his face. 

“A little something you should know about my little brother, in case you didn’t already," his sister leaned in, her hand on my elbow, and spoke  _ just  _ loudly enough for him to hear, "he can be a bit of a sore loser.”

“I am  _ not _ a sore loser. But there’s no way these two beat us without cheating.”

“Why not Uncle Chris?" His niece looked up at him and crossed her arms over her chest almost defiantly. "You said we’re both smart. And strong.”

I lowered my eyebrows and cocked my head a little to the side, hands planted on my hips. “Yeah, Uncle Chris." He pulled a face at that as he bent to set the two backpacks, packed with the kids’ toys and games, at his sister’s feet, and I went on quickly, both skimming over the potentially awkward moment caused by my use of the kids’ name for him and at the same time trying not to laugh. "We’re smart. And strong.”

As he stood back upright, he closed his hands over his niece's shoulders and pulled her back against his legs. She reached up to wrap her hands around his wrists; they wouldn't begin to close over the backs of his hands. “You are. Both of you," he told her, wiggling her shoulders one at a time, front-to-back. "But there are three of us and only two of you. Doesn’t add up. And. I’m the Disney King.”

His sister smirked, and the expression wasn't the same as his, exactly, but there was so much familiarity to it that I couldn't help but feel a connection to her in that moment. “I think you just got dethroned, King Chris.”

“Okay, that’s it. Out of my house," he pointed toward the door with one hand and pushed his niece forward gently but playfully with the other, "and take these three hoodlums with you.”

“Love you, little brother.” she grinned and leaned over her two youngest's heads to kiss Chris's cheek while her older son laughed and picked up the kids’ belongings.

“Yeah, yeah.” Chris rolled his eyes, but he didn’t bother trying to hide his smile. When she pulled back, he headed for the front door, shuffling the kids along with him.

She watched them for a second, then turned to me. “And it was so great meeting you. I’ll get my  _ hoodlums _ out of your hair,” she smiled and cast a sideways glance at her brother, “but I’m looking forward to dinner tomorrow.”

I smiled back at Chris’s big sister and instinctively reached for her hand. I had a split second of doubt when my hand was halfway to hers, but I remembered her putting her hand on my arm earlier. I also thought about how comfortable Chris was with physical connection and guessed it was probably a family trait. “Me too,” I told her sincerely, “I can’t wait.” 

I turned to wave at the kids where they were hugging and climbing on their uncle at the front door. “Bye you guys. I had so much fun with you today!” The boys paused their horseplay just long enough to turn and wave at me, but their sister ran back to me to bury her face in my stomach and wrap her arms around my waist. My eyes connected with Chris’s as he exchanged car keys with his sister, dropping hers into her palm and tucking his own into his pocket. I can’t say exactly what my face looked like, though I imagine it was probably pretty close to full-on cuteness-overload-meltdown status, but his was soft, and warm, and so full of affection as he watched me hug his niece close.

After she pulled away, I walked the little girl to the door so she could take her mom’s hand and follow the boys to the car. Chris waved one last time, then closed the door behind him and took a step closer to me, just enough to reach forward and hook both index and middle fingers through the belt loops at my hips. 

“Hi.” He spoke so quietly I could only barely hear him as he pulled me forward, stopping only when there were just a few inches between our chests.

“Umm, hi?” I tilted my head and brought my hands to his shoulders, smiling at his oddly timed greeting. “I think we said that a few hours ago.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get to do this.” He pulled me even closer and let go of the tiny strips of denim he’d been using to steer me, sliding his hands across my back until they wrapped around my ribs on the opposite sides. When he leaned down to press his lips against mine, my hands slid up his neck to cup both sides of his jaw. It had been weeks since our last real kiss, and I melted under his touch. I brushed my thumbs over his beard as he teased my lips with his tongue, licking slowly into my mouth when I opened it for him. He smiled against me when I whined quietly at the way his tongue swept across my own, his fingers flexing into my sides. I whimpered yet again when he pulled away to bump his nose against mine then press our foreheads together.

“Mmm, that’s nice,” I hummed, my eyes still closed and my hands sliding back down to his neck, fingertips lingering on that oh-so-well-defined jaw.

“ _ You’re  _ nice,” he asserted in response, leaning in for another quick kiss, just a peck of his lips against mine, really.

“Ooh, good comeback.  _ Very _ clever.” I pulled back a little, bending backward at the waist to look up at him.

“Maybe. But I mean it." He shrugged and dragged his right hand up my side to wrap his arm around my shoulders, turning me and tucking me into his side. "Come on," he began walking us back toward the living room. "You were incredible with them. Especially with her. I’d gotten to see you with your kids, it was really nice to see you with" we stopped in front of the couch and he paused for a second to think about his next words, "well, okay, not  _ mine  _ but, ya know, mine. The same way that your kids are yours.”

He turned and dropped onto the couch then reached out to grab my hands and pull me down next to him. Before I'd even had a chance to really settle myself against him, he was reaching across us to hook his hands behind my knees and pull my legs over his lap. When his hands came to rest atop my legs and his fingers danced over the denim, I reached between us to slide my right hand under his left one and twine our fingers together. 

“They’re precious." I scooted a little farther down into the cushions and dropped my head sideways onto the back of the couch. My eyes lingered on the smile I don't think he even realized he wore. "A little out of my typical age range, which was kind of terrifying at first, but they’re amazing.”

He squeezed my leg with the hand I wasn't holding. “ _ You  _ were amazing. They adored you. Which makes me adore you a little more.” He brought our hands up to kiss mine then looked over at me, and after appearing to think about it for a second, leaned over to press his lips to mine again, lingering there for a couple seconds before pulling away and dropping a soft kiss onto the tip of my nose. "So." He stopped to resituate himself next to me, holding my legs on his lap as he turned to face me a little more. "Are we a work in progress?"

My jaw went slack for a second, but I closed my mouth quickly and hoped he hadn't seen. For some reason I didn't want him to know he had surprised me. I doubted he had been intentionally sneaky when listening to my conversation with his niece, but I certainly hadn't known he was there at the time. "I, umm," I stammered a little then forced a cough in a poor attempt to cover it. I realized that what I was most afraid of wasn't that he'd heard too much of our conversation, but that he hadn't heard _all _of it, or had misheard or misunderstood what I'd said to his niece about what that phrase meant to me. Ultimately, though, I had to say something, and honesty and forthrightness seemed to be the best - the _only _\- option. "Yeah. _I_ think so."

“Me too." He dropped his own head onto the cushion, mirroring mine, and lifted his free hand from my leg to reach across me and brush my bangs across my forehead, tracing my hairline down to tuck my hair behind my ear. "Okay," he pulled in a breath and blew it out between his lips, his chest rising and falling heavily, "there’s something I want to say, but I’m not sure if I should.”

“Well, if you want to say it, then you should say it.” I shrugged. 

“Are, um," his hand had come to rest on my hip after he slid his fingers through my hair and his thumb had slipped under the hem of my shirt, without conscious thought on his part, I believed, and was skittering over my hip bone as he hesitated, "are you sure?”

“Umm, yes? I mean, you’re not going to say something that’s going to end up with me leaving again before I even get to unpack, are you?”

He seemed to actively avoid eye contact, something I'd only really known him to do when he'd sat on my couch the previous December telling me, in his way, that he cared about me more deeply than I'd realized. In avoiding my eyes, he looked down to his hand and slid it a few inches down the outside of my thigh so that there was no skin-to-skin contact aside from the hands that were still laced together and resting on his lap in the space between my legs and his hip. “I don’t … I hope not.”

It dawned on me that he was actually being serious. “Okay, I was joking, but now you’re actually starting to scare me." I sat up straighter, tensing, "What’s up?”

“Sorry, it’s - nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to say," he trailed off and chewed the inside of his bottom lip, and I became aware of his thumb tapping without rhythm on my leg, "I love you.”

Whatever I could have expected, whatever I'd been blindly trying to prepare myself for, it wasn't that.

“Wow.”

“I know." He slid his hand even farther down my leg so it was almost at my knee. "It’s … a lot. Soon.”

I tightened my grip on the hand I still held; I may have been imagining it, but I really thought I felt him starting to let go. “It’s just not what I expected you to say.”

“I know.” He nodded and went back to tapping his thumb on my leg.

“But it’s good.” I lifted my free hand and pressed my palm into the center of his chest, bringing my upper body around and a little closer to his, “I love you, too.”

“Don-," he cut himself off, shaking his head, "you don’t have to do that. Say it back because I said it.”

“Chris -”

“No, it’s okay. Let me finish. I know it can be a thing. I tell you I love you and you feel like you have to say it back or else our whole relationship ends. That’s not going to happen here." He seemed almost to become aware of his hands again, because his right hand pulled my legs closer to his body, forcing our joined hands, his now holding mine tighter than before, up onto my lap. "I’m okay with us not being at exactly the same point or moving at the same speed, as long as we’re moving in the same direction and I have reason to believe we’ll get to the same place eventually. Maybe even be in the same car." His eyes squeezed closed and his nose wrinkled and as he shook his head his lips turned up into the closest thing I'd seen to a smile since we’d stopped talking about his niece and nephews and started talking about us. My chest tightened when I looked back at that face I'd been so crazy about for so long, longer even than I'd actually known him. "Okay, I may have taken the metaphor a little farther than necessary, but you get the idea.”

I slid my hand across his chest and up to just below his shoulder to let my thumb drift over his collarbone as I spoke. “I’m not going to lie, I’m really glad I got to hear you say that. It reinforces what an incredible man you are. But you didn’t actually  _ need _ to say it. I  _ do  _ love you, partially bec _ ause _ of things like this. So, I didn’t say it because I was afraid you would break up with me if I didn’t, I said it because I meant it.”

“Baby,” he started, but I cut him off. He’d said what he had to say, it was my turn.

“Look, full disclosure, I’d never have said it first, my insecurity wouldn’t allow it. But it’s absolutely true. To be completely honest, I was 75% there before we even started dating; that’s part of what took me so long. I wanted to make sure it wasn’t just a crush before I dragged you into all my crazy.” I shook my head and laughed at myself a little, “ _ Definitely  _ not just a crush.” He dropped his eyes but grinned, pulling his hand free from mine to wrap it around my waist and pull me closer. He slid his other hand, which had made its way all the way down to sit atop my knee as he’d talked, back up the outside of my leg to meet the first hand where it curled around my hip. “And once I realized that, and how  _ insane  _ I would be to let the chance of  _ us  _ slip away - between your humor, and strength, and your  _ kindness, _ and  _ intelligence  _ and, and overall  _ goodness _ , the other 25% was a given.” I brought my now free right hand up to his chest as well, landing with the palm just over his heart, the left sliding down a little to mirror it on the other side of his body, and let my fingers splay across his collarbones. “Basically, I never stood a chance.”

“You say that like I did.” He leaned forward to press his forehead to mine, but before he got there I tilted my head so that I could meet his lips with my own. He realized at the last moment what I was doing and smirked, letting me come the rest of the way to him. 

**Author's Note:**

> All stories in this collection will be an anthology of connected one-shots that exist within the same universe; and the officially no longer follow chronological order. They may eventually be reorganized into novel-format, but that would be quite a way down the road.


End file.
